When my husband is away for “Spring Break”, or what I affectionately refer to as the beginning of “Baseball Coach Widow” time, I admit life is a little easier.  One less mouth to feed, fewer (much fewer) clothes to wash, and more time with just the kids and me.  We get very close, the three of us.  We snuggle a lot more.  I take time for them.  I spoil them.  I take them to McDonald’s and order them pizza.  Ok, ok, so that makes it easier on me, not having to make a real dinner.

But, the hardest part is the communication lag between home and my husband.  He is in a state of “no-time, but baseball time”.  It’s like a hockey trip, only the games are much, much longer. Did I say much longer to bring home my point?  We’re talking double-headers.  Games that start at 12:30 and end at 9pm.  It’s a task to connect, but now with text I can reach him anytime.  Several years ago, when cell phones were becoming more common place, he disallowed cell phones from the dugout.  I was much more dedicated to his time than now.  Now, I’ll text him in the middle of an inning.  How am I to know?  I’m here in Boston, and he’s fluttering around baseball field to baseball field, to Chili’s and condos then back to the fields again.

It’s become something of a science now.  When he calls, it is usually good news.  That is one formula that hasn’t changed.  When the assistant coach calls, it means he’s been tossed from a game, and sulking somewhere away from the field (for the record, this has happened only once in 17 seasons), when I call and call and it rings through Voice mail, it usually isn’t good.  Then, I question myself, should I keep trying?  He takes Charlie’s calls.  That’s my new in.

Being a Distant Fan is tough.  Imagine yourself being a Red Sox Fan with no knowledge of how the game is going until Tito calls.  If he calls.  There is no after-game press conference.  There is no play by-play announcer. No Dan Shaughnessy article ripping on Tek.  No NESN highlights.   No Remy, nothing.  Then, there’s the phone call.  “So and so hit a double, so and so’s roommate stole second to tie-up the game.  The names mean so little to me without faces, numbers and jerseys.  I want so badly to know who they are, what they are capable of, so I can be a better fan.

I try to reach back into my fan-brain from last season.  Hmmmm.  I remember some of the players.  Charlie, on the other hand, knows them all.  He’s my in.  He’s my color guy.  After tonight’s game I’ll quiz him, ask him to call dad, and tell me about the game from his Distant perspective.  He’s a much better fan than I.  A better distant fan.  And Annie.  Well, she just realized daddy has been away for a long time.

“Is he coming home soon?” she asked this morning.  I thought this might be the beginning of her fan-hood for her Dad’s team.

“Yes,” I responded.  “Saturday. And we’ll get to watch his team play in a week.”

“What team?”  My hopes vanished.  She just wanted him home.

Oh well, there are a few of us who are fans.  Distant or not.  I’ll wait for the call tonight.  Double-header today.  So and so is pitching.  So and So’s mother is in Florida with the team.

So and So’s mother is a good fan.

I’m not saying I’m not a good fan, I’m just not a good Distant Fan.